


Disquiet

by SinNotAlone



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Bondage, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Fisting, Humiliation, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:00:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28295691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinNotAlone/pseuds/SinNotAlone
Summary: Boba Fett agrees to help Din Djarin forget his grief, but only if he can do it his way.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Boba Fett
Comments: 16
Kudos: 282





	Disquiet

When Din Djarin showed up at the dusty palace, Boba Fett didn’t appear remotely surprised. He put a hand on Din’s shoulder and ushered him quickly through the throne room. Din let Fett guide him past the crowd like a sheltered ward. The bruising weight of Fett’s touch left no question as to whether he understood the purpose of Din's visit.

Fett ignored the surprised looks and cautious whispers the visiting Mandalorian inspired, and Din followed his lead. When they neared Fennec, she glanced up at them with a knowing eye. Din nodded in her direction. After a sly smile spread across her face, he righted his head.

At a narrow hallway the two could not continue side by side, so Din followed behind Fett. They climbed down the serpentine steps to his personal apartments. Fett pressed his palm to a pad on the wall, and the door whirred open, revealing a lavish lounge and sleeping quarters. Once Din stepped through the door, he heard it seal closed behind him. No one would be able to interrupt them here. No one would be able to help him here either. But it was Fett’s help he sought.

Fett removed his helmet and sat in one of the plush upholstered chairs. He relaxed, letting his legs splay open, and gripped the arms of the chair like he’d rather have his hands on something else. Din would fit so snug at his feet.

He didn’t invite Din to sit, so Din stood by the door, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. In his head, he spoke the words that he needed to say over and over, but he couldn’t get his lips to form them.

Fett finally took pity and asked, “What do you need, boy?”

“Make me forget.” Din’s voice was thick and the request came out almost indistinct.

Silence followed. A slight turn of Fett’s head to the side indicated that he had heard what Din said. He took his time considering Din’s request.

“Please.” Din’s voice broke. “Help me forget. For a minute, a second.”

Fett rested his elbows on his knees and scrutinized Din like he could see his red-rimed eyes through the beskar helmet. “Perhaps," he said.

“Perhaps?”

Din had expected an immediate, even enthusiastic, agreement. The first time they had laid together, Fett had made the advance with a carelessness foreign to Din. The last time, he’d given Din half a second to agree before shoving him to his knees. Perhaps it was Din asking, rather than Din being told, that did not appeal to Fett.

“It won’t be easy,” Fett said. “You know physical pain too well. A simple beating would be no distraction.”

“I don’t care how you do it,” Din replied.

Yes, he’d hoped to have Fett’s merciless hands take him apart with a whip or cord, but the sorrow in his breast was so heavy that it didn’t matter what Fett did as long as it dulled the feeling. Din was ready to take a dull knife and scratch it out of his chest himself if Fett didn’t assist.

“Anything I see fit?” Fett sat forward in his chair.

“Anything.” Din’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

“Strip,” Fett commanded.

“But—”

“Don’t test me, boy,” Fett growled. “You play by my rules, or you don’t play at all.” He stood and pointed to the carpet in front of him. It was woven with a painstaking pattern of desert thistle, the colors bright enough that it must have been a recent addition.

Din stepped onto the carpet. He started by unlacing his boots and worked his way up through his armor, leaving the helmet for last. As the pile of armor grew, his hands began to shake. He blinked a few times before removing the helmet, like that would hide the emotion written in his teary eyes. Though he’d shown himself to Fett before, he still wanted to cover his face with his hands.

When the helmet crowned the pile of armor, it toppled over. Beskar clattered far across the tile floor. Without his helmet muffling the sound, the scrape of metal on tile was loud as a speeder crash. Din bent to gather the pieces.

“Leave it,” Fett interrupted. His lips were shiny wet and his eyes wide. “Continue.”

It was easier for Din to strip the rest of his clothing than it had been to remove his armor. He pulled off his socks and dug his toes into the soft pile of the carpet. His pants followed, revealing his swollen but not fully hard cock, framed by dark brown curls. His vest and shirt came last. Din was afraid Fett would change his mind when he saw his chest, his wounds only partially healed, burns fierce pink and bruises a seasick kind of blue.

“Look at you,” Fett murmured. He circled Din’s waist in his broad hands and squeezed. “So pretty, even when you’re hurting.”

Din could smell the tabac on him. He dared to nestle his face against Fett’s chest and breathed in deeply the masculine scent. The steady beat of Fett’s heart calmed him a bit. After Fett wrapped him in his arms and held him fast, he even managed to stop shaking.

When Din went completely slack in his arms, Fett threaded his fingers through Din’s short hair and pulled his head back. He pressed his lips to Din’s with enough pressure that Din’s incisors caught on inside of his mouth, and Din tasted blood. Fett’s tongue prodded at the seam of his lips, and he tightened the fingers in his hair. Din obediently opened his mouth for Fett to invade. His tongue was hot and carried the astringent flavor of alcohol.

As quickly as it had began, Fett ended the kiss and pulled back to observe Din.

“You like that too much, boy.” Fett said.

Fett looked at Din’s hard cock but didn’t touch it. Din was seconds away from begging him for the attention. He was glad to have kept silent when Fett grabbed him by the throat and led him to where shackles hung from the ceiling. Fett wouldn’t be asking for permission, Din realized, now that he’d given consent to whatever Fett thought he needed. No asking for anything. Just taking.

“Arms up,” Fett directed.

Din considered the durasteel chains. They didn’t seem at all out of place in this room. Stars only knew the depths of the degeneracy the palace had seen.

“I don’t like to repeat myself.”

Din wondered what Fett might do it he disobeyed. Would he make him, or would he end things? Din didn’t want to risk an abrupt end to this, so raised his arms above his head. It was a stretch, and he had to step onto the tips of his toes for Fett to close the shackles around his wrists. When Din realized the predicament Fett had forced him into, his cock twitched, and a drop of precome beaded at the tip.

With his hands pulled taut over his head, Din vacillated between two bad options. Have his shoulders strained to the point that they felt about to dislocate, or stand on his cramping toes to relieve the pressure. He chose to balance all his weight on the balls of his feet, though the tile allowed little purchase. If only he could ask for the carpet to be moved, but Fett would have laughed at the mere idea of such a request.

Fett stood before Din, watching him try one position and then the other. His arms were crossed and his face held a look of mild amusement. Even standing as tall as he could, Din was slight compared to Fett. In a fist fight, he would lose to the man’s broad shoulders and muscular biceps.

Din’s thighs spasmed, and his legs began to shake. A drop of sweat trailed down his back, though the subterranean room was hardly hot. He relaxed into the bonds, letting them wrench his shoulders. When the burn became intolerable, he raised his heels once more. But Fett was right, the pain wasn’t enough of a distraction, except for when it was at its most damaging, and that couldn’t be sustained. When Din wasn’t in agony, a deep ache in his chest accompanied the discomfort.

“You good, boy?” Fett asked.

Din nodded. He could take this. He could take more. Anything to forget.

“When was the last time someone opened you up?” Fett cracked his knuckles and massaged his palms.

“You…” Din admitted. Fett had been the only one to fuck him since the kid had first been taken. Once he’d given him up for good, he hadn’t felt anything near desire for weeks.

“Isn’t that sweet. You saving yourself just for me?”

“No,” Din answered. Grief had kept him occupied. Until it had become too much of an occupation to bear.

Fett took his time rolling his shirt sleeves up past the elbow. The determined expression on his face made Din feel lightheaded. He stared at Fett’s thick fingers, wondering how many of them he’d be able to take. Fett’s cock was worth at least three, but his palm was so damn wide Din feared it would tear him to even try.

Fett pressed two calloused fingertips to Din’s lips, prodding at the bruised flesh. Din opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around the warm skin. The fingers tasted slightly metallic, like the trigger of a blaster, but Din didn’t mind. He hollowed his cheeks and bobbed his head like it was something else he was sucking. Fett’s eyes narrowed as Din gave him the best show he could manage in strained circumstances, always eager to please.

When Fett removed his fingers, he wiped them across Din’s face, smearing saliva from cheek to chin. As it dried, he took a vial of spice from his pocket and dipped the tip of his wet finger in. He held the fingertip in front of Din’s lips, letting him decide whether to accept the drugs.

Din swallowed, lips closed. A pang of pain in his shoulders was magnified by the dagger piercing his heart. He parted his lips. Fett rubbed his finger along the inside of his torn lip, depositing the spice. Din’s eyes fell closed, and Fett ran his hand down Din’s chest to play with his nipples.

Within moments, a soft blanket shrouded him, and Din’s head filled with shifting static. The colors behind his eyelids were a vibrant kaleidoscope.

Fett’s hand inched lower, short nails scraping over Din’s abdomen. Briefly, his palm brushed against Din’s hard cock. Din jerked in his restraints, and his eyes flew open. Fett clucked his tongue in admonishment as he passed over Din’s cock to reach between his legs. Din tried to assist by spreading his thighs, but it was impossible with his arms strung so tight.

Fett’s thumb rubbed against Din’s fluttering hole, letting him anticipate what was coming. Over and over he skimmed the surface, until Din no longer reacted to the touch. Then he pressed firmly and slipped the tip inside Din. With no lubricant, the stretch felt like an intrusion, even though it was just one finger.

“You’ll take it properly,” Fett said. He withdrew his hand and walked away.

“Take what?” Din played innocent.

“My hand. Maybe my cock. If you don’t bore me,” Fett called.

Din breathed deep with relief when Fett returned with lube. He stood where Din could see him and poured it onto his right hand, made a show of spreading it up to his wrist. Then he circled Din and waited. Din raised up onto his toes once more, panting from the effort. Fett pressed his clothed front to Din’s sweaty back. Din could feel his thick cock through the rough fabric of his pants. He wanted to take Fett’s cock, make him feel good, make him come, but first he’d have to do what Fett wanted. He’d have to earn it.

Fett ran calming hands down the small of Din’s back, then pulled his cheeks apart with his left hand. He pressed two fingers to Din’s hole, and they slipped inside easily. Din didn’t react until he scissored them apart, stretching his rim taut. He arched his back as far as his bonds would allow and rolled his hips, though there was nothing but air surrounding his cock. Fett rubbed his knuckles against the sensitive spot inside him. Din’s breath came out in harsh bursts, and his cock leaked onto the floor below.

“Ready for more?”

“Please,” Din moaned.

Another finger slipped inside him, easy until he approached the third knuckle. Then Din’s hole protested, contracting around Fett’s hand, trying to force him out. Din’s sack tightened as he fought to process the overwhelming feeling. He was being pulled apart from ankles to wrists and from the inside too. Fett rubbed the tender skin between Din’s thighs to get him to relax. Din was ashamed by how they quaked under his touch.

“You’re doing well, boy.”

The praise, magnified by the spice, brought a warmth to Din’s skin that suffused into the depths of his chest. He sucked in a sharp breath when Fett’s little finger joined the rest. Tears welled in his eyes, not from the pain but from too much of everything else. He tried to blink them away, but all that did was force them down his cheeks. He couldn’t wipe them, so they clung to his chin and dried in salty tracks. He sniffed, and Fett did him the courtesy of pretending not to notice.

“Going to be so sloppy for me,” Fett said as he rocked his hand into Din’s hole, gradually deeper and deeper until Din could feel the breadth of his palm pressed to his entrance, ready to fill him. “Might take a minute, but you’re not going anywhere.”

Din’s hole burned, and the stretch seemed impossible. He wanted to grind back on Fett’s fingers, but he couldn’t move at all. Sounds came out of Din’s mouth but no words followed. Fett was patient, never forcing, always easing. Din’s skin went hot and cold in turns, and he shook violently as Fett tucked in his thumb. Din was ready. He didn’t feel pain in his arms or legs anymore. The only sensation in the world was his hole being torn open for Fett.

Fett let his hand fold into a fist as he breached Din completely. Once Din had taken him, Fett gently, almost imperceptibly began to move. Din had never felt so full. He’d never been so thoroughly used before. Fett rested his unoccupied hand on Din’s abdomen and pressed down above his pubic bone. Din realized Fett was trying to feel his own hand move inside his body. Knowing that Fett could feel it from the outside made blood rush to his painfully swollen cock. His mouth hung open and low whines came out.

“You were made to be used like this,” Fett said. He kissed Din’s back, wet and open mouthed, sucking bruises along his spine. “I knew you would take it well.” His teeth nipped at the dimpled flesh above the swell of Din’s ass, but he didn’t bite hard.

When the whine in Din’s throat became a constant cry, Fett began to withdraw.

“Careful, boy,” Fett instructed between kisses to his hip.

His hand slowly unfurled and slipped out of Din. Din’s hole gaped open and clenched around nothing. Lube oozed out of him to drip down his thighs. Din had never felt so empty. What was he if he wasn’t being used? He needed Fett’s cock in him now, but Fett left his side and headed to the refresher to clean off.

Given a moment to catch his breath, Din became all too aware of his bonds again. A weaker man would have cried at the profound ache. Din wrapped his hands around the chains and pulled, though he knew he couldn’t escape them.

“Should keep you strung up. Make a true slave out of you,” Fett said. He’d stripped bare and was stroking his hard cock as he watched Din try his shackles.

Din nodded in his endorphin high state. He wanted whatever Fett wanted for him. Chained and torn open, whatever he could endure to please him, he would.

“But now I want to fuck you easy.” Fett reached for Din’s wrists and unlocked the shackles.

Upon being released, Din nearly collapsed to the floor. His legs were without the strength to hold him. Fett caught Din before he hit the ground and gathered him into his arms. The warmth of skin against skin made Din burrow deeper against his chest. He held onto Fett’s shoulders as he was carried to the bed. Din now could see how angry red and raw his wrists were, the shackles having broken the skin in places.

Fett laid him down on the large bed, arranging him so the pillows supported his head. He sat down beside him and reverently kissed one of his bruised and bloody wrists. His tongue was rough against the abrasions, and his saliva stung the open wound. Din moaned, realizing he’d have a permanent reminder of this moment, if he allowed his wrists to scab and scar without resorting to bacta.

Fett spread Din’s legs wide and knelt between them. He hooked Din’s heels over his shoulders, bending him almost in two. With how effortlessly Fett’s hands manipulated him, Din felt like nothing more than a toy.

Before he entered Din’s loose hole, Fett kissed the sweat damp hair plastered to Din’s brow. Din closed his eyes and tipped up his chin. Fett took the hint and kissed him lightly on the lips.

Though Fett’s cock was one of the biggest Din had ever taken, it felt like nothing filling him now. Fett didn’t need to go slow or hold back. Din dug his fingers into Fett’s shoulders as he slammed into his hole. He tried to clench around Fett’s cock, to buck his hips in time with his thrusts, but he was too slack and exhausted to do much besides take it.

“Touch yourself for me. I want to see you come, boy,” Fett whispered hot against Din’s ear.

Din followed the instructions without delay. His balls ached from having been denied so long. He rubbed his cock with a feather light touch, and his stomach clenched. Touching himself was almost too much. He was embarrassingly close, and it took only a few soft strokes before he came on his belly, leaving a sticky mess he’d have to clean up later.

“That’s it,” Fett said. “Broken in just right, aren’t you?”

His own rapid thrusts faltered, and he stilled, buried deep within Din. He threw his head back, and his eyes squeezed shut. A strangled sound of satisfaction came from his throat as he pulsed inside of Din, filling him up with his come.

When his cock slid out of Din’s abused hole, Din felt the come dribble onto the bed. He reached his own hand down to feel how sloppy he was. As he fingered the soaked, puffy rim, he took a stunned breath. Broken in was one way to put it. If hadn’t come a moment ago, he would have just from that touch.

Fett panted fiercely, pitched over Din’s body. His brow was lined with concern. “Did that help?” he asked. He waited a few heavy breaths before following, “Din?”

Din stared blankly at the ceiling before nodding. He barely remembered his own name.

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/sinnotalone) if you want to yell at me.


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